


Only Love Can Hurt Like This

by grand_budapest_queen



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1930s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Dancing, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Trauma, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28047843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grand_budapest_queen/pseuds/grand_budapest_queen
Summary: /1930s AU/Looking for a way to spend his summer holidays productively, Brian takes a job as a tutor for Mathematics and Physics at the city of Berlin. Immersing himself not only in his academic studies but also the thrilling night life of Germany´s capital, he comes to meet the flamboyant and troubled young performer Freddie Mercury, who sings at Berlin´s most prestigious and infamous night club, the Moka Efti.With the threat of fascism and political unrest looming over Berlin, the two men begin a passionate love affair, battling their own demons as the world as they had previously known it is about to change forever./Inspired by “Goodbye to Berlin” by Christopher Isherwood/
Relationships: Brian May/Chrissie Mullen, Brian May/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 22
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks,  
> here I am with another Maycury story! This time, it´s an AU, taking place in 1930s Berlin, an era of history I find extremely interesting for the culture, the historical developments and the aesthetic of a society that was very complex and fascinating before it would lurch into darkness and absolute disaster. This is the environment I wanted to see our boys interact in, both of them coming with their own story and baggage, their own dreams, aspirations and fears.  
> This is my first time writing an AU but I am so excited to upload this and to take you all onto a journey of life in Babylon Berlin, the city of sin!  
> I hope you´re all well and safe! Hope you enjoy!

The moment Brian sets foot into the city of Berlin, he falls in love with it. 

There´s a rough charm of freedom, of anonymity in the air, as he steps out of the last carriage of the train, the long journey from Paris making his legs feel stiff and filling him with a need to get moving.  
His suitcase is heavy with books, clothes and small trinkets, memories of his life back in England and everything else he would need for this great big adventure in this unknown city. 

Ahead of him lay six full weeks of life in Berlin. And God, the city is much different from what people had told him when he had chatted to his friends at University about his travel plans for the semester break. 

It´s modern, it´s busy, it´s fast-paced and Brian is surprised to find the strangely harsh dialect people are speaking in oddly charming, just like the slight rudeness in their tone that quickly turns soft and kind when they notice that he´s an Englishman.

Berlin is modern, it´s growing, stretching and striving to become bigger every day, caught between the shadow of its past monarchy and the struggles of a society yearning for even more change. 

It was only years later that Brian scolded himself for the naïve enthusiasm he had displayed when arriving in Berlin. How profoundly the city would change in such a short time, how dark, how wretched it would all soon become. But on this first day in the city, a sunny afternoon in 1932, Brian didn´t have a clue of what was to come. 

Roger, a friend from University had helped Brian find a place to sleep at and a job as a tutor, teaching the wealthy children of the Berlin factory owners, bankers and politicians to improve their knowledge in Mathematics and Physics as well as English over the summer holidays.

Roger himself had once studied Biology at Oxford and Brian had been good friends with him for the three years of their separate courses, before the adventurous young man had dashed off to Berlin and from then on had been nagging Brian to come for a visit. 

But Brian, being the perfect student that he was, had made it one of the conditions of his visit to not give up on studying or at least doing something productive over the course of his time off from University. 

“Don´t worry mate, I´ve got just the right job for you! You won´t believe how utterly stupid the offsprings of those rich buggers here in Charlottenburg are! They´ll be paying you good money if you manage to teach those little donkeys how to count up to ten.”, Roger had gushed to him over the telephone during their weekly calls in spring. 

“And the girls, Bri!”, his friend had continued and Brian had nervously looked over to the head of the department, who´s office phone he had been using, knowing how elaborate Roger could get when talking about his favourite subject, women. 

“You know, one of my mates from school always used to say how bland and boring those German girls are, but he was lying! Girls here in Berlin are an entirely different breed! Oh, they are naughty and loud-mouthed and I love it! With their harsh accent, bossing you around! I can´t even study properly, all I do is fuck, I´m telling you!”, Roger had laughed and Brian had heard the head of the department, Mr. Collins, clear his throat loudly, looking at Brian over the rim of his reading glasses, lowering the book he had been pretending to read a little. 

“Roger! I am happily engaged, thank you very much!”, Brian had been quick to reply but when Roger had told him about all the museums and the big libraries of the city, he had been intrigued to go and had booked his train ticket to Berlin on the following week. 

Roger had been over the moon upon hearing that Brian would come and had speedily set things into motion for him to have a roof over his head for the six weeks of his stay. 

Said roof is located conveniently close to Alexanderplatz and is the first address Brian visits upon arriving. He gets terribly lost with the tram system and all the street names, so he has to walk quite a bit until he arrives at the house in a busy street close to the inner city circle, bourgeois but slightly run down. 

Upon knocking at the front door, he is welcomed by a certain Fräulein Schneider, an elderly, unmarried woman who wears tacky golden jewellery, has chipped red nail vanish and dyes her thinning hair as black as the night. 

She takes Brian in like he is her long-lost son, chatting to him in broken English, her German accent so thick that Brian can´t make out what she was saying half of the time. He´s too polite too offer her to speak in English, not wanting to offend her. 

“Jungchen, you are thin like the soldiers coming home from the war! You need to eat, don´t they feed you properly over at those posh school in England?”, she complains as she hangs up Brian´s coat on a rack in the drafty hallway. 

Brian can see other coats hanging there, men´s and women´s, probably the property of the other people living in the rooms Fräulein Schneider rents out for two Reichsmark a week. 

She serves him Kartoffelsalat and Fleischklöpschen and Brian politely tucks into two plates full of the stuff, even though he isn´t overly fond of meat, washing it all down with strong, black coffee, sitting in her quite chaotic but very cosy kitchen on the ground floor of the house. 

The house has once belonged to the owner of the largest factory for shoes in all of Brandenburg, Fräulein Schneider tells him, but he had become bankrupt and left the city with nothing but a suitcase full of his wife´s expensive jewellery late into the night five years ago. 

“I bought the house for an apple and an egg, lucky me!”, Fräulein Schneider giggles when they are done with their late lunch and she shows him to his room. 

The place has a run-down air of past elegance to it, all high ceilings and tall staircases but Brian will soon find out that every room is always horribly cold, the water that comes out of the faucets is the rusty colour of copper and the walls are incredibly thin, so he can hear Mademoiselle Dora from next door crying at night when she reads the old letters of her husband, who hadn´t come home from the war and who she is now looking for in Berlin.

Brian´s room is on the first floor and from the windows he can look out over the busy street the house is located on. It spacious, with a bed much larger than the one Brian has slept in at his own room back in Oxford and it has a lovely oak-wood desk right in front of the window. 

Brian can already see himself, sitting and working during rainy days, making some much-needed progress on the expose for his dissertation, which is looming over his head like a threat. 

He tries to push away the thought of all academic work, at least for now, lifting his gaze from the painting of a horse and a soldier, that hangs over the bed. 

He turns back around to Fräulein Schneider, a shy but genuine smile appearing on his lips. 

“It´s lovely, Fräulein! Very spacious and the view is lovely. I must say, I sometimes get quite inspired by watching the hustle and bustle of life out on the streets.”

“Are you a writer, Herr May?”, she asks him, he smile turning slightly worried, her thin, drawn-on eyebrows arched questioningly, “Your friend Herr Taylor didn´t say anything about that.”  
Brian shakes his head. 

“No, I study astrophysics at Oxford and my courses are done for this semester. Still, I´d like to get started on the expose for my dissertation, which I´ll be starting to write in October.”, he explains and watches her face light up with interest.

“Oh, a doctor! Sie sind ein schlaues Kerlchen, ich wusste es doch!“, the elderly woman exclaimed, smiling brightly at him. 

“Well…not quite but….”, Brian tries to get in, a little nervous because even though he had excelled at his German lessons back in school, he has not understood what the Fräulein had just said.  
The elderly woman comfortingly pats his upper arm, probably sensing his confusion. 

“Well, there´s a typewriter in my office, if you´d like to borrow it some time.”, she offers and then winks at him, which makes Brian blush. 

Damn his shyness around women, no matter their age! He was 25 years old, for God´s sake!

“Dankeschön Fräulein, sehr freundlich von Ihnen.“, he says, blushing even more, but she seems delighted with his effort to speak her native language. 

“Do you have a girlfriend, Herr May?”, Fräulein Schneider asks him and Brian already senses the threat of her wanting to introduce him to a niece or the daughter of a friend, so he is quick to answer her question. 

“Yes, I´m engaged actually.”, Brian says a little too hastily and Fräulein Schneider gives him a reassuring smile, almost as if she´s feeling a little sorry for how nervous and awkward the young man in front of her is. 

“Oh, how lovely! I must say, I´m happy to hear that you are a respectable young man. Your friend Herr Taylor, he is a bit of a wild one and when I saw you with that unruly head of hair I thought ach Gott, is he one of those crazy artists?”, she explains, her blue eyes clinging to Brian´s curly hair for a second, a small smirk on her face. 

It´s been about two years since Brian has grown out his hair so it now almost reaches his shoulders, tight little ringlets of curls, giving him quite the eccentric look. The hairstyle is entirely out of fashion, a little ridiculous even, but Brian doesn´t care. He would never admit to it out loud, but he even enjoys it a little when people say that he looks like Isaac Newton. 

Fräulein Schneider seems to be in the mood for a little gossiping, her smile turning slightly sly as she says: “There used to be a professor who once lived in this room, literature and philosophy! Oh, he was a naughty, naughty man, always taking a pretty girl he picked up at the Moka Efti here, sometimes two or three even.”

“It was wild on those nights, I´m telling you, they kept the whole house awake for hours.”

A slight blush creeps up her cheeks, as if the memory alone seemed to excite her a lot more than she would have admitted and Brian quickly lowers his gaze down to his shoes, trying not to let his mind wander to the things that had previously happened in this room. 

It wasn´t decent to fantasize about those things!

“Don´t you worry, Fräulein Schneider, I won´t be having any female guests during my stay.”, he pipes up quickly, but upon hearing his words, she lets out a hearty laugh. 

“That´s what your friend Herr Taylor said as well when he moved in and in those four weeks he stayed here, I saw countless girls sneak in and out of this house.”

When Brian looks back up at her, he can´t help but smile as well.  
“Oh well, I can imagine.”, he murmurs.

“But he is such a dear boy, darling Herr Taylor, comes round ever so often, brings me a bottle of my favourite beer and keeps me company, listens to my horrible singing.”, Fräulein Schneider says with a little sigh and by the look in her eyes, Brian can tell that he is now supposed to ask about her possible singing career.

“Are you a singer, Fräulein Schneider?”, he asks and the elderly woman practically beams at him with joy, before her smile turns theatrically melancholic. 

“Well, I used to be.”, she sighs and then goes off on a long and winded story of her glorious past twenty or so years ago, when she had sung in bars all over the Kaiserreich, leading a life of glamour and turning down countless of men who had been eager to marry her right on the spot. 

“There used to be an Englishman who had captured my heart for nearly a decade. But alas, poor Charly died off pneumonia three years ago.”, she sighs and Brian awkwardly pats her hand, trying to comfort her, which earns him a slightly teary smile from the elderly woman before she leaves the room to make some more coffee in the kitchen, where he can hear her turn on Italian opera on the gramophone, singing along. 

Brian gets just about to unpacking his suitcase before there´s a ring on the doorbell at about 5 pm and when he steps out of his room and into the hallway, he hears Fräulein Schneider calling: “Herr Taylor, wie schön Sie zu sehen!”

He hears his friend joking and flirting with the Fräulein, but somehow, he manages to break free from her tight embrace, sprinting up the staircase and almost running into Brian. 

“Brian mate!”, Roger chuckles and pulls him into a tight hug, that nearly sends them reeling down the stairs as they chuckle and cling to one another. 

“Rog, so good to see you!”

His friend looks just like Brian remembers him, all bright smiles and sparkling blue eyes, wearing the most dapper suit Brian has ever seen him in and a fedora hat, his hair cut a little shorter, a little sharper. He looks like those posh, busy businessmen Brian has seen at Alexanderplatz and Brian suspects that his friend surely has found a way to make some good money here in Berlin.

“So good to see you, mate! I´ve missed you terribly!”, the Blonde grins at him and Brian feels his heart filling with the spirit of all those sunny afternoons three or four years ago, when they had sat out on the lawn in front of the lecture hall, a little lost, their friendship just developing, two boys in this big new world of the Univeristy of Oxford. 

Roger is adamant about going out tonight and flirts a little more with Fräulein Schneider to talk Brian out of the dinner she was planning on preparing for him and the other residents, which makes Brian feel a little guilty, but only a little. 

His friend takes Brian to a Trinkhalle, where they have Bockwurst and Brötchen with a mild kind of mustard only to then get started on the beer. 

Quickly, Brian gets introduced to Roger´s friends, three lovely German girls by the names of Lotte, Marie and Theresa and two guys, Hans and Louis. Roger knows all of them from his countless nights out in town, has made their acquaintance here and there and has introduced each of them to one another until they have become a little circle of good friends. 

Lotte, Marie and Theresa all work at the Kaufhaus des Westens, selling fancy dresses, make up and perfume at their own counters on the ground floor. They are loud-mouthed and cheeky, telling Roger off for cracking stupid jokes and eyeing Brian with unhidden flirtiness in their tone. 

Brian suspects that Roger has slept with each of them numerous times.

“What do you say, Roggie? Shall we take your friend to the Moka tonight?”, Theresa suggests when it hits 7 pm and inches a little closer to Brian. 

She´s a petite Brunette with a face full of freckles and a sweet smile and she seems to haven taken an instant liking to him. 

“Oh ja! I´ve heard that Freddie´s playing again!”, Marie pipes up and blushes with excitement. Roger has an arm laid around her shoulders and one of the other guys, Brian believes that it´s Louis, doesn´t seem to happy with it by the frosty look on his face. 

“Right, sounds like a good time to me!”, Roger agrees and they all get to paying their drinks, Brian struggling with the strange coins of the foreign money until Theresa simply winks at him and pays for his food and drink, which is a custom that is entirely unknown to Brian. 

“I´ll introduce you to him.”, Roger says when they leave the bar, stepping out into the warm summer air of the bustling street near Alexanderplatz. 

“To whom?”, Brian asks. 

“Freddie Mercury of course, Dummchen! Roger´s pretty close with him!”, Lotte says with a little laugh and then nudges Roger in the side with her elbow. 

Theresa and Marie giggle and Roger rolls his eyes.

“Not like that, Lotte! Although…I don´t think Freddie would mind…”, Roger chuckles and they abruptly stop before crossing one the streets, narrowly escaping getting run over by one of the trams. 

The driver honks loudly at them. “Arschloch!”, Hans shouts at him and then grins at Brian and shrugs. Brian begins to suspect that the ways of the German capital are quite different from the reserved politeness he is used to. 

“Well, I wouldn´t mind myself…”, Marie giggles and Roger puts on an expression of mock-offense. 

“Are you talking about Freddie or about me, Marie?”, he asks. 

“Both of you of course! No harm in sharing!”, the young woman laughs and then presses a kiss to Roger´s flustered cheek. 

Brian once again feels heat creeping up his neck and even though he scolds himself for it, he feels excitement flutter in the pit of his stomach. The night is still young and Berlin seems to have a lot more to offer than the solidarity and quiet of his small room at University. 

Babylon Berlin! 

Brian has heard people calling the city this name, revering to the various amusements and pleasures of the night life and the vast and diverse scene of culture. 

A city of sin, a city of dark corners, of forbidden pleasures, a complex duality and hidden meaning behind each door.  
Brian watches Berlin transform under the streetlights as the sun goes down and can´t shake the feeling that he is in for the night of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings,   
> here´s chapter two! Finally, Brian is going to meet the mysterious Freddie Mercury! Let´s see how he likes his first night out in Berlin.  
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos! Your support means so so much to me and I´m so glad to be a part of this fandom!  
> Enjoy!

When Brian sets foot into the Moka Efti for the first time, it´s like entering a different dimension. He is baffled with the glamour of it, shimmering chandeliers of glass and gold in the hallway, the beaming letters of the club mounted over the entryway, flickering slightly and their mirrored image shimmering in the marble floor tiles. 

It smells like expensive perfume, like fizzing champagne and musky cigar smoke. The people around them are all wearing clothes so fancy, so revealing and extravagant that Brian feels quite plain in his simple brown pin-stripe suit and his white shirt, no hat on his head, his black leather oxfords a little dusty from the long travel by train. 

Roger seems right in his element, being approached by people left and right, greeting pretty girls in sparkling dresses and shaking handsome gentlemen´s hands, apparently knowing everyone in Berlin who seems to be important in some way. 

“Are you feeling a little overwhelmed already?”, his friend asks him, handing him a glass of champagne and Brian is quite thankful for the fact that, despite his new-found popularity, Roger still hasn´t lost his ability to sense when Brian is a little uncomfortable in a social setting. 

Brian hates it when this happens, but sometimes, when he´s around lot´s of people, he just shuts off, overstimulated by all the chatter and noise and just stands in a corner or sits in an armchair, quiet and zoned out while he waits for someone to tell him that it´s alright if he´s tired and wants to go home because he´s too shy to simply leave. 

It´s happened before during dinner parties and get-togethers back at Oxford but Roger seems happy enough to spend a little time with him in the crowded hallway of the club.

“It´s fine, you know? It happens to most people when they go to the Moka for the first time.”, he explains and Brian smiles weakly and quickly takes a sip of champagne, which is very bubbly and quite delicious.

“Guess not much has changed since we´ve last seen each other. I´m still no social butterfly.”, he says quietly, a little bashfully, but Roger just put an arm around his shoulder and gives him a genuine smile. 

“That´s alright, Bri. I´m glad you came out with us tonight, I really appreciate it.”, his arm stays around Brian´s shoulder for a second longer, before Lotte joins them, her arms looping around Roger´s slim waist as they start chatting, drinking and sharing a cigarette. 

“Do you smoke?”

Brian looks to his left and finds Theresa suddenly standing next to him, offering him a cigarette. 

“Thank you but no…no I don´t.”, Brian replies with a polite smile, watching her nod and light a cigarette for herself. 

He finds it surprising how social and upfront many of the girls in Berlin seem to be, how naturally and openly they interact with the men around them, no trace of shyness in the way they confidently walk the streets and talk to their male counterparts. 

Brian nips at his glass of champagne, letting his gaze travel over the spacious hallway filled with people. There´s an air of excitement to the whole business, a growing sense of joyful waiting, many of the people´s gazes travelling towards the three sets of closed double doors to their left. 

Brian looks over to Theresa and as she notices his gaze, she smiles sweetly at him. Previously, she had also been looking towards the doors. 

“Excuse me but…can you tell me what exactly we are waiting for?”, Brian asks her shyly and the young woman giggles. 

“For the doors to open of course!”, she explains and there´s an amused twinkle in her eyes. Brian fears that she will most certainly be thinking his following question to be quite silly. Still, her answer has left him none the wiser. 

“Oh…yes, of course…”, he says quickly but then asks, “And em…what lies beneath those doors?”

Theresa´s smile broadens and she leans in a little closer as she begins to explain, her moss-green eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“Well, first of all there´s the dancefloor, all of the tables and sitting areas, plush velvet sofas, some of them hidden away with a more exclusive view of the stage…”, she takes another sip of champagne, “And then, there´s the band of course and the stage.”

Brian gives a nod and a slightly stiff smile, trying to hide the fact that the thought of a large room filled with hundreds and hundreds of people is making him feel slightly anxious. It scares him how noisy and busy it will probably be, how one of the girls might want him to dance with her, which will lead to him embarrassing himself terribly. 

Theresa leans in even more and Brian can see that there are small dots of grey in the green of her irises. Once again, he feels himself blushing slightly. As she begins to speak once more, she almost sounds dreamy. 

“And on that stage will be Mister Freddie Mercury, waiting for his audience so he can deliver to them yet another spectacularly scandalous show!”

Brian would have liked to ask what kind of show it is he should be expecting from said Mister Freddie Mercury, when the double doors are opened from the inside of the room on the other side and suddenly, everyone starts rushing towards them. 

“Come on, we have to be quick to get to the front!”, Theresa says and grabs his hand, before she starts walking towards the doors quickly, Roger and the others right behind them. 

The room on the other side is a big as a theatre and similar in architecture. There´s a large dancefloor and a slightly elevated stage. There´s a lot of red velvet and gold, dark colours of purple and black, mirrors reflecting the low light, an air of seductive secrecy and exclusivity about the place. 

Brian feels his hand become clammy with sweat in Theresa´s grip, nervously eyeing the people around him, their gazes fixed onto the large but still empty stage in front of them. Once again, everyone seems to be waiting for something. 

For a few minutes, nothing happens. The room fills up with people, which creates an enormous bustle of their chatter, their laughing and drinking and general merriness before suddenly, the lights are dimmed and everyone seems to turn quiet within a second. 

Theresa squeezes his hand in excitement and Roger, right next to Brian, grins as him as their gazes touch. All of them seem full excitement, a restless hunger to see what is going to come next. 

A band of musicians starts to assemble on the back of the stage and everyone claps for them, even though Brian can tell that they are waiting for something, for someone else. 

For a few more seconds, it is absolutely quiet and then, Brian sees him for the first time. 

Onto the stage strides a man, slowly, elegantly, taking his time with each poignantly placed step. He´s wearing a tight-fitted black velvet suit, the cut accentuating his narrow waist and long, slim legs in an almost feminine way. 

Brian sees sharp cheekbones and eyes as black as onyxes, lined in dark kohl pencil as they slowly wander over the crowd in front of him until a winning smile appears on his prominent mouth, the plush, shimmering lips quirking upwards. His black hair is short, slicked back from his face with pomade and his skin seems to shimmer under the stage light, a bronze glow to it. 

There is something uncanny about his beauty, something foreign and confusing, all soft curves and sharp edges at the same time and something about the way he moves, seems to float around the stage so gracefully, is utterly enthralling to Brian. 

“Good evening, meine Damen und Herren!”, the man says in a voice as smooth as silk and then the crowd sends a roar of clapping and cheering towards him, which makes him smile even brighter. 

He bathes in their adoration, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, his chest stretching under the tight-fitted material of his extravagant suit as he takes in a deep breath. It seems as if he´s soaking up what the people are giving him right on the spot. 

“Now, my darlings, shall we indulge in some…boogie?”, he whispers seductively into the microphone in front of him and once again, the people are cheering. 

“Oh my lovelies, I can tell that you´re all in the mood for it tonight! You look so dashing from up here, absolutely beautiful!”

The crowd cheers even louder and the man gives a boyish giggle, as if he himself is a little stunned with the response he is getting, before, with a quick gesture of his hand, he quiets them down a little.   
The people seem putty in his hands, clinging to his every move and every word on stage. 

“Alright, my darlings! My name is Freddie Mercury and tonight, I´d like to entertain you with some songs! Enjoy!”

The band starts playing and the singer, Freddie Mercury, as Brian has just learned, begins to work his magic. 

Brian knows none of the songs he is singing, some of them in German, most of them in English, but it doesn´t matter really. Slowly but surely, he gets pulled in, gets lost in the melodies, the charm of his charisma, the sharpness of his accent, the beauty and power in his elegant and flowing movements. 

His voice is strong, soft as a kitten´s fur one time and strong as the roaring waves of the sea during a storm another time. The music seems to flow through him as he lives, breathes, loves every word, every line and delivers it in such a way that seems to capture every last person at the Moka Efti tonight. 

Brian´s cheeks are flaming hot, his breathing shallow and his throat has gone incredibly dry as he watches the man on the stage completely enthral the audience. People are dancing and singing along and at one point, the singer seems to conduct them almost, controlling them in such a way that Brian has before believed to be impossible. 

There is a roar of applause and cheers after each song, but when he has finished his performance, people seem to be going crazy, chanting his name, completely mesmerised by him. 

“Alright, my darling! That´s it for tonight!”, a collective sound of frustration goes through the rows of people. 

“Oh, don´t fret, don´t fret, my lovies. I shall be back another time this week. Have a good night, my darlings! Make it a night to remember!”

With those words, he saunters off the stage and is quickly replaced with another singer, a woman this time, but no one is really paying her much attention. Every last one of them seems to still be mesmerised by the performance of one Freddie Mercury, the audience slowly trickling away towards the various bars and the tables at the back of the room. 

Girls with bare breasts and skirts made out of bananas spread around the room, carrying large trays filled with dozens of glasses of champagne, the liquid sparkling golden in the warm light. 

They each get a glass, the Marie, Lotte and Theresa excitedly chatting to one another, lighting cigarettes and swaying to the music that is played. All of them are in high spirits and Brian can´t help but feel the same, slowly getting over his shyness and the feeling of being utterly overwhelmed by all the glamour and pomp, getting more accustomed to it. 

Suddenly, a whispering goes through the crowd around them, people are stepping aside, awe and adoration in their eyes as no other than Freddie Mercury suddenly stands right next to Roger, who greats him with a roar of laughter and a big hug. 

“Freddie mate, there you are! You were amazing tonight, as always!”, Roger laughs and hugs the other man so tightly that he is lifting him up from the ground, making the singer drop his champagne glass in a fit of giggles. 

It´s almost surreal to see him so up close, simply joking around with Roger and then greeting the girls, each with a small peck on the lips, as well as Hans and Louis, who he shakes hands with. 

“Fred, there´s someone I´d like you to meet!”, Roger suddenly pipes up and then grabs onto Brian´s arm, pulling him closer so he now stands right in front of Freddie Mercury. 

Brian is surprised to find that the other man is quite a bit smaller than him, a littler smaller than Roger even. His shoulders seem much more narrow, his figure almost petite compared to how tall and impressive he had seemed up on stage. 

His black eyes look even more mesmerising as his gaze travels up and down Brian´s lanky form and Brian scolds himself for once again blushing like a silly little school girl. 

The other man seems to sense his nervousness and gives him a smile that is surprisingly shy, sweet even in the way his eyes light up with warmth and he tucks his upper lip over his quite prominent front teeth. 

There´s a sliver of insecurity in his eyes, a slight quiver in his upper lip, as if the situation of meeting someone new is a challenge to him. How different he looks from the man up on stage, who had charmed the audience with such ease, how much more delicate and quiet he seems!

“This is Brian! He´s a friend from back at Uni!”, Roger introduces him and Brian quickly extends his hand towards the other man, which Freddie Mercury grips and shakes. 

His palm is warm, the skin soft, his fingers slim and small in Brian´s hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you, darling! I like your hair.”, the singer says with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes and Brian can´t help but be a little thrown off guard. He can´t really tell if the other man is trying to mock him a little or if the compliment was genuine. 

“T-thank you…I…liked your singing…”, he stammers and the singer gives a boyish chuckle and then let´s go of his hand. 

“Oh, did you now, dear? Well, I´m glad to hear…”, he replies, all initial shyness vanished as he takes a glass of champagne from one of the trays, taking a sip. 

His eyes meet Brian´s gaze once more over the rim of the glass and there´s an amused twinkle in those black orbs that leaves Brian speechless.

He watches the other man saunter off towards the dancefloor, where people flog towards him, eager to be in his presence for just a second. It is only now that Brian notices how tightly he has been clutching his glass of champagne and he empties it in one gulp. 

Something about the way the other man has looked at him makes his neck tingle, a foreign feeling of restlessness gripping onto his body and shaking him. 

For the rest of the evening, Brian tries to avoid getting dragged onto the dancefloor, which is much harder than he would have expected. After a while, Theresa seems to haven taken pity on him and joins him at the bar, where he buys both of them a gin tonic. 

She asks about Oxford, about his studies and about the life he leads back at home. She almost seems a little disappointed when he tells her that he´s got a fiancé, which reminds Brian of the fact that he should write to Chrissie right on the next day to let her know that he has arrived safely. 

He misses her already, sweet, thoughtful Chrissie, her soft smile and the loving and caring expression in her eyes. Maybe he could invite her to Berlin for the last week of his stay, a little vacation for the both of them, some precious time together. Fräulein Schneider surely wouldn´t mind and…

“That´s a beautiful necklace you´ve got there, Brian.”, Theresa interrupts his train of thought, her green eyes fixed onto a strip of exposed skin above the buttons of Brian´s shirt. He had unbuttoned it a little because the room had become quite hot and stuffy, involuntarily exposing his most prized possession, a dainty silver necklace with a delicate Star of David as a pendant. Brian wore this necklace since the day of his bar mizwa but he usually hid it behind the collar of his shirt. 

“Yes, it was a present from my father.”, he explained, his fingers tracing the small star pendant carefully. The necklace is very dear to him, especially since his father had died of lung cancer just two years ago. 

“So you´re…?”, Theresa asks and then halts, as if she´s a little unsure on how to carry on. 

“Jewish? Yes…”, Brian nods and then takes a sip of his drink as to hide the uncomfortableness of the situation. 

Theresa nods, her smile suddenly seeming a little stiff and Brian can´t help but wonder why. 

“Are you…religious?”, he asks quickly to cover up the awkward moment between them and feels like an idiot the minute he opens his mouth. 

Theresa smiles at this question, a knowing, sultry smile that catches Brian off guard as she leans in a little to make herself understood over the music. 

“Not really, no…I think I like having fun too much to be a good Christian girl.”, she murmurs and Brian simply watches her wink at him, before she leans back again and takes a sip of her drink. 

Brian, being absolutely overwhelmed with her flirting, manages to give an awkward smile and a nod, which makes her giggle and he can´t help but shake the feeling that she actually is laughing at him, teasing him on purpose. 

Her gaze travels to a spot behind Brian, someone probably sitting not far from them at the bar and her face lights up a little. 

“Sorry…I think this gentleman would like to talk to me.”, she simply says, giving Brian´s lower arm a little squeeze and smiling up at him, before she walks away. 

Brian knows that it´s rude to stare and still he can´t help but look, watching her greet a man in an expensive suit, wearing a top hat and a monocle, who kisses her cheek as a greeting, his lips almost completely hidden behind his bushy moustache. He reeks of old money and before Brian can ask himself how a simple young girl like Theresa comes to know such a man, he sees the guy reach into the inner pocket of his blazer, pulling out what looks like about 50 Reichsmark, which he hands to her. 

She smiles sweetly at him, before she takes him by the hand and leads him towards a staircase at the back of the room, which Brian hadn´t noticed before. 

He feels heat travelling up his neck as he finally puts two and two together and lowers his head in a suddenly burst of shame. 

“Don´t look so shocked, darling.”, a silky voice suddenly says to him and as Brian turns his head to the other side, no other than Freddie Mercury is standing right next to him, an easy smile on his lips and an amused twinkle in his dark eyes. 

“Oh em…I´m not, I…”, Brian manages to get out, blushing even more, but Freddie just laughs, an honest sound of joy, gently placing a hand onto Brian´s upper arm, giving it a reassuring little squeeze. 

“No need to feel embarrassed, dear. You´ll get used to how things are here in Berlin pretty quickly.”, he chuckles and Brian feels even more foolish. He doesn´t want the extravagant singer to think of him as some boring prude. 

“I don´t condone her actions, really I…”, he says quickly and Freddie pulls away his hand with another soft pat to his upper arm, an understanding smile decorating his plush, rosy lips. 

There´s something mesmerizing about them, about the way they tuck so evenly over his front teeth, shimmering softly in the light, slightly too pleasant almost for the rest of his angular face with the narrow nose and the strong jawline. 

Never before had Brian been so fascinated with another man´s features, had had such an urge to keep on looking, to keep on drinking in the unique beauty of a stranger. 

“Would you like to sleep with her, darling?”, Freddie suddenly asks him and Brian almost chokes on his sip of gin tonic. 

“No, Christ I…I´m engaged…”, he manages to splutter in between coughs before clearing his throat embarrassingly loudly to get rid of the itchy feeling. 

“Oh, I see, how lovely, darling.”, the singer simply replies as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, his smile just as easy as before. 

“You know, you can do those things around here. It´s all just fun and games, nothing to worry about. But if you don´t want to, if that´s not your thing, that´s fine as well. It´s all fine at the Moka Efti.”, he explains and Brian has a hard time wrapping his head around what the other man has just said, getting a little carried away with the pleasant flow of his English accent, that has a hidden air of foreign softness to it. 

“I like the drinks…the Gin Tonic is…very good.”, Brian replies in an attempt to say something, anything to make himself seem less like a bore. 

Even though he is quite sure that the singer can sense his awkwardness, he doesn´t seem to mind at all. 

“Is it, darling? I must say, I´ve never tried it around here.”, Freddie replies with a smile.

“Would you like a…?”, Brian asks in a sudden rush of bravery and under the ever-pressing need to make the other man think of him as spontaneous and open-minded. 

He puts down his glass and gently nudges it towards Freddie over the bar table. 

“A sip? Oh, well…thank you, dear.”, the singer replies and then takes the glass, a little timidly at first, to take a small sip of the cold drink. A smile starts to spread on his lips, genuine and happy, dimples appearing on his cheeks, which Brian can´t help but notice with a warm flutter in the pit of his stomach, which confuses him quite a bit. 

“Oh, that is lovely, that is!”, the singer declares and then takes another sip of the drink, before he suddenly seems very conscious of Brian´s eyes on him and puts down the glass, “Sorry dear, drinking all of it, really, I´m such a silly goose.”

Brian can´t help but chuckle softly and as he shakes his head. 

“No, it´s alright, you can finish it…if you like…”, he says and Freddie gives him another smile that reaches his incredibly dark eyes which don´t seem to leave Brian´s face, gazing directly at him as the singer smirks at him ever so slightly. 

“What is it?”, Brian asks, feeling his heartbeat speeding up for reasons unknown to him. 

“Oh nothing, dear, I…”, the singer says softly and then adds, “I just like looking at you…”

Brian can´t supress the small nervous laugh that bubbles up at the back of his throat and escapes his lips, dry and embarrassingly hoarse. He lowers his gaze, simply because the eye contact with the other man feels so incredibly intense but when he looks back up, the expression on Freddie´s face hasn´t changed. 

It´s still there, that soft, knowing smile and it confuses Brian beyond measure. 

“Y-you´re just saying it…like that…”, he stammers, completely lost and very overwhelmed and the singer simply shrugs and takes another sip of Gin Tonic. 

“Well, it´s true…Maybe the German way´s are rubbing off on me already. You´ll soon find out that the German people don´t really care too much about little white lies and excuses. They just come out and say things as they pop up in their heads and I find that remarkable…if a little frightening.”

“Yes, a little…”, Brian replies with a chuckle and watches the singer lean in a tiny bit. 

“I hope I haven´t frightened you, Brian.”, he says softly, carefully and Brian shakes his head, his gaze not leaving the other man´s face. 

“No…no, not at all.”, he replies and feels himself leaning in a little as well. 

“That´s good.”, Freddie says, his eyes shimmering warmly as he smiles at Brian. 

There´s a part of Brian´s brain that knows, somehow just knows that something about this encounter is meaningful, deep and profound and so different from anything he had ever experienced before. 

Something about meeting this man, this enigma of artist and person, will change him forever. Brian just knows it in his guts. 

“Look who we´ve got here!”, a familiar voice suddenly calls from behind them and Roger appears out of the crowd of people dancing and drinking, laying an arm around each of them, a drunken flush to his features. “My two best friends in the whole wide world!”, he declares enthusiastically and Freddie grins at him when Brian catches his gaze. 

Drunk Roger really is awfully affectionate and apparently, he isn´t the only one who has had the pleasure of experiencing this trait of his friend´s character. 

In the end, Brian can´t fight it any longer and does get dragged onto the dance floor but it´s not nearly as bad as he thought it would be. He manages to remember some of the steps from any of the classical popular dances and the girls even seem impressed with it, even though Brian knows that their compliments maybe have been the product of their pity of him, when he watches Roger twirl Lotte around dancing Swing. 

They drink quite a bit more of the delicious champagne until their all tipsy and tired enough to leave the club at around two in the morning, stumbling along the streets, all arm in arm, giggling and joking about, singing and still dancing. 

Freddie is the first one to break away from the group, as he lives the closest to the club. 

“Good night…good night, darlings…”, the singer slurs and pulls himself together for the handshake with Hans and Louis but loses his composure when saying goodbye to the girls, which consists of a lot more smacking kisses, long, stumbling hugs and giggles. 

“What about my kiss goodnight, mate?”, Roger demands in a whiny tone when it´s his turn and Brian feels heat travel up his hairline. 

“Course you get one, come here, Roggie!”

Freddie grabs Roger by the lapels of his blazer and clumsily presses his lips onto those of the blonde, which sends the girls laughing and cheering. 

Brian lowers his gaze out of the sheer inability to process the combination of alcohol, confusion and restlessness the night has left him with, but suddenly, Freddie is standing right in front of him, his smile so sweet, so warm that Brian feels butterflies in the pit of his stomach. 

“Goodnight, darling. I hope to see you again soon.”, the singer says softly. 

“Yes, I´d like that a lot.”, Brian manages to stammer and then Freddie leans in and kisses him onto the cheek, just like that. 

Brian catches a waft of his perfume, something spicy and zesty and it clouds his senses in a way that has him supressing a shiver, the touch of the other man´s lips on his skin electrifying. 

“Goodnight…”, he manages to murmur weakly, as the singer pulls away and then, he suddenly is gone, leaving Brian standing there under the harsh streetlight, surrounded by his new-found friends, who snicker as they look up at his face. 

“Look at you all flustered, Brian.”, Lotte teases as they get walking again. 

“Don´t listen to her, that´s what it´s like for everyone meeting Freddie for the first time.”, Theresa defends him, smiling up at him. She has re-joined them after being gone for about an hour, her mascara a little smudged a the slight hint of a gentleman´s perfume on her clothes, which Brian had noticed when they had danced together back at the club. 

“It is?”, he asks, still too confused to hide his obvious embarrassment behind witty words. 

“Ja, ja, so ist das.“, Marie says and grins at him.

When he gets back to the inn, Fräulein Schneider is still awake, scolding him a little for staying out so long, but still making him a Butterbrot and then sending him off to bed. 

Tiredly, Brian takes off his clothes and then slips between the sheets, the room spinning around him, his head pounding with the first signs of a headache. 

Still, he feels like he´s floating on clouds as he closes his eyes. In the privacy of the dark and the warmth of the bed, he allows his mind to wander, free of all judgement or the fear of the consequences of doing so. 

He dreams of the Moka Efti, of bubbling champagne and girls in sparkling dresses, of the upbeat music, the high ceiling and the chandeliers and of Freddie Mercury, of his dark eyes and warm smiles, of his plush lips and soft hands and the kiss the other man has placed onto this cheek when he had left.


	3. Chapter 3

In the following two weeks, Brian falls in love with Berlin quite recklessly. It is Roger who first forces and then encourages shy and usually quite withdrawn Brian to grab life with both hands and get the full experience of the beautiful capital of Germany. 

Fräulein Schneider doesn´t see much of him. Brian usually leaves the house quite early for his first tutoring session, but he´s always very grateful for the strong, black coffee she serves him in the small kitchen along with a thickly buttered Marmeladenbrot for breakfast, before he´s off to take the U-Bahn to Charlottenburg, the district where most of his clients live. 

This part of the city is much different from the busy centre. The air seems cleaner and large trees grow on both sides of the wide roads, the houses are spacious and large, with accurately trimmed but quite tall hedges, beautiful rose bushes and swimming pools in the back gardens. 

The first family Roger has secured Brian a job at lives in such a house right at the top of the high street of Charlottenburg. The father, Herr Werner Rosenbusch owns a factory for fur coats and welcomes Brian with a big smile on his fleshy face. His smile grows even brighter when Brian gives a quick nod and a slight bow at the sight of the Mezuzah by the front door. 

His wife serves Brian some deliciously sweet, milky coffee and Rugelach*, which is even sweeter and makes Brian´s teeth hurt a bit after the Marmeladenbrot he had had for breakfast. 

Their children, Hannah and Helene, are two lively girls at the ages of 11 and 13, who first giggle at Brian and eye his hair in slight bewilderment, before they seem to warm up to him quickly and prove to be delightful students. 

The family invites him to join them for Sabbath dinner soon and Brian feels quite happy to have found some of his people even in a place unknown to him. 

The next family he goes to in the afternoon is much less pleasant, not because they´re unfriendly or unkind, bot mostly because their son Heinrich, who´s 17 years old, smokes countless cigarettes during the two hours that Brian spends with him and doesn´t get a singular irregular verb right, even after Brian goes over them with him at least a dozen times. 

“I really must find a way to make learning more interesting for Heinrich.”, he muses on that afternoon, as he enjoys his first beer of the day at the Trinkhalle near Alexanderplatz with Roger. 

It´s around 3pm and once again Brian has been unsuccessful at finding out about the job his friend has secured himself here in Berlin, which allows him to go home at such an early hour in the afternoon. Roger´s very secretive about it and Brian grows to think that what his friend is doing is not entirely legal. 

“He´s a clever chap, he´s just so unmotivated to learn, it´s a real shame.”, he continues, watching Roger smoke and smile at a pretty Redhead two tables to the left from them, probably not even listening to Brian. 

“Yeah, a real shame…”, the Blonde murmurs and then takes a long drag from his cigarette, before slowly, languidly he blows out the smoke and then winks at her, a calculated, smooth smile going along with it and once again, Brian marvels at the social abilities of the other man. 

He wonders how on earth he, awkward and shy, had managed to find a girl at all, especially one as lovely as Chrissie, when there are men like Roger around. 

“So…what´s on the agenda for later?”, Brian asks to chase those thoughts of self-doubt away and as Roger´s gaze settles back onto him, a smirk lights up his handsome features.   
“It´s such a lovely day. Lotte suggested going out to Wannsee later. For a little swim…”

The thought of their little outing to the lake fills Brian with dread and excitement alike. Of course, he´s heard people talk about it, Berlin´s big lake, a small piece of nature quite close to the big city, just a trip with an S-Bahn train towards the south-western edge of the city away. 

It´s a place where pretty girls come to sunbathe in their colourful swimming costumes, where strong men with big muscles go to work out along the shore until their alabaster skin glistens with sweat, posing and swimming to be admired by the onlookers. It´s a place where the rich and the beautiful have their Sunday picnics, where lovers meet in the secrecy of the long branches of the weeping willows, where promises are made and first kisses are given. 

It´s a magical place. 

But as Brian thinks about the fact that he has to expose his pale, skinny body to the sunlight as well as the eyes of his newly acquired lady friends, he feels his heart sink. It´s one of his many insecurities. The way his limbs are so long and gangly, his chest so slim and hairless, his ribs so painfully visible under his skin, which is littered in moles and freckles.   
He looks like a boy rather than a 25 year old man and he´s awfully embarrassed about it. 

“So, you´re seeing Lotte…privately?”, he asks, simply to fill the sudden silence with words and to distract Roger from the fact that him mentioning a trip to the lake had led to Brian having a small existential crisis. 

The Blonde simply shrugs and grins at him, a boyishly charming grin of easy carelessness. 

“Well, not regularly. We just tend to meet up here and there, it´s no big deal.”

“So she´s not your girlfriend?”, Brian keeps on asking and those words cause his friend´s big blue eyes to widen with amusement, as he lets out a hearty laugh. 

“Girlfriend?! Don´t ever mention that word around her, she´d die of laughter! Lotte being my girlfriend, no! I think she´d rather drop dead!”, he chuckles and Brian feels his brows rising up his forehead in confusion. 

“But you´re…?”, he tries to make sense of his friend´s words but the Blonde has but another shrug for him. 

“Sleeping with each other? Well yes, what would be the fun in it otherwise?”, Roger explains casually and then takes another drag from his cigarette, which is now almost burned down to the filter. 

“Alright…”, Brian murmurs, thinking it better to not ask any further questions as to not embarrass himself. He takes a swig of beer, simply trying to find something to keep his hands busy, something to look at to keep his shy gaze from meeting Roger´s, who always seems to find Brian´s awkwardness a little amusing. 

“It´s fun, you know…”, Roger suddenly murmurs and as Brian looks back up at him, he finds a slight smirk on his friend´s features, almost as if he thinks he´s letting Brian in on a well-kept secret. 

Brian roles his eyes and tries to be a little annoyed with his friend. Still, he can´t help but smirk. 

“I know it´s fun, Roger, I wasn´t born last night! I might seem a bit prudish but I…”, he protests half-heartedly, but his friend cuts him off with a small sigh. 

“Not just the sex…something casual, I mean…Something easy…”, he says quietly, his smile broadening as he waggles his eyebrows but Brian just shakes his head and laughs softly. 

“Roger, it might have escaped your memory, but I am engaged to a woman I love very much.”

“Yes, but she´s not here.”, Roger replies, still grinning and then taking another drag from his cigarette. 

“No, she´s not but I intend to stay faithful to her, even if she´s not physically present!”, Brian says, a little more firmly this time, taking another sip of beer, once again shaking his head in disbelieve. 

Roger quickly places a hand onto his lower arm and gives it a sympathetic squeeze. 

“Bri, come on, don´t get all cross, alright? I didn´t mean any harm, I know you love that girl.”, there is genuine warmth in the other man´s eyes as Brian looks at him and deep down he knows that for all of his friend´s teasing, Roger never means any harm.

“It was just a joke, yeah? All I want is for you to have some fun, to live a little, that´s all.”, the Blonde adds with a small, slightly bashful smile and seems relieved when Brian returns it. 

“I know, Rog. It´s alright.”, Brian murmurs. 

There´s an awkward pause between them, where Roger draws back his hand and they both busy themselves with taking a few long sips of beer. 

“Is em…”, Brian starts and then hastily clears his throat, “Is Freddie going to come?”, he asks and watches Roger smirk once again. 

“I suppose so.”, the Blonde replies and Brian gives a small nod and puts up a smile. 

There is a reason for him asking and Roger is clever enough to sense that something about their friend joining them is making Brian feel uneasy.   
It´s not that Brian doesn´t like the flamboyant singer, not at all.

They´ve been to the Moka Efti four more times so far and each night has been splendid, full of laughter, wild dancing and delicious drinks. Brian has even warmed up to being dragger onto the dancefloor by Theresa and has gotten over his initial shock of finding out that in fact, all of the girls were earning a little extra money by spending half an hour in one of the rooms at the basement of the club with a gentleman or two. 

But whenever Freddie shot him one of those charming smiles, his cheeks flushes from dancing, dimples denting his cheeks as his dark eyes sparkled with joy, Brian had found himself lowering his gaze, shy and shameful, a queasy feeling in his stomach, nervous and fluttering and unexplainable to his sharp mind. 

The same went for when Freddie tried to talk to him, tried to make polite conversation as they waited for their drinks at the bar. The way he smiles and flirts, jokes and giggles and tries his absolute hardest for Brian to like him, to at least look at him, is making him feel bad. But still, he can´t help it. 

Brian can see the wheels turning behind the other man´s eyes every time he escapes a conversation with a lame excuse, every time Brian lowers his gaze and blushes and stammers and feels like an utter idiot in his presence.

Brian feels sorry for how he´s behaving around the other man, wants to change it desperately but doesn´t really know how or why he´s acting like this in the first place. 

“Bri, I know he can seem a little intimidating at first, but he really is a lovely chap. You don´t have to be so quiet around him and go all silent when he´s there. I bet he´d love to talk to you, he´s very open and friendly if you get over the first shock of his teeth.”, Roger suddenly says and pulls Brian from his wandering thoughts. 

“What about his teeth?”, Brian asks, his brows raised in confusion. 

“Well…they´re…”, Roger smiles and pulls a bit of a face, desperately searching for a word more polite or less harsh, but then decides to go for, “…huge…”

Brian can´t help but laugh at the strained expression on his friend´s face. 

“Roger, I´m not scared of Freddie´s teeth!”, he replies, still chuckling and shaking his head and Roger, to Brian´s surprise, lets out a big sigh of relief and sends him a beaming smile. 

“Good! That´s good! Because that´s what he constantly worries about when he meets new people… His teeth and if people are staring at them and thinking that he´s ugly or some nonsense like that.”, the Blonde explains and Brian feels a sympathetic clench in his chest. 

“But he gets up on a stage in front of hundreds of people ever night to sing!”, Brian objects and Roger just shrugs. 

“Yes, but I think that´s different…for him at least. This show he puts on up that stage…it´s a persona. It´s not who he really is.”, the Blonde explains and takes his last swig of beer from the glass. 

“I see…”, Brian murmurs and finishes his beer as well. 

“Don´t ever tell him that I´ve told you that.”, Roger says as they leave the Trinkhalle to get on their way to Roger´s flat. 

It´s a swelteringly hot summer´s day and the air in the streets flickers with the heat. Brian feels the cotton material of his shirt grow damp under his arms and on his back as they wait for the tram on the nearest tram stop. 

“Told me what?”, Brian asks and tries to fan himself with his hat. 

“How insecure he is about his teeth. He´d kill me.”, Roger replies, taking off his own hat to do the same. 

“My lips are sealed.”, Brian replies with a grin and Roger winks at him. 

“Thanks mate.”

They wait around in the heat for a little longer, jealously eying the patches of shade provided by the thick oak trees on the side of the road, but those patches are already occupied by other people waiting for the tram. 

There´s a pretty girl in a maid´s uniform, looking quite tired from the heat, but she smiles at Brian when she notices his gaze and Brian can´t help but smile back at her, which Roger notices and grins at him, nudging him in the side when their tram arrives. 

“I though you were happily engaged, Brian.”, he murmurs as they board the tram and Brian just rolls his eyes at him. 

“Roger…”, he says after a few minutes of comfortable, slightly tired silence, the beer making the both of them feel a little sleepy. 

“Yes Bri?”

“I don´t own any swimming trunks…”, Brian admits, secretly hoping for this to be his way out of their plans for the afternoon, but Roger has already seen through his disguise. 

“Oh, don´t worry! I´ll let you borrow some of mine, I´ve got plenty.”

The swimming trunks he borrows from Roger are quite a bit too tight but Brian thinks it impolite to complain so he wears them without a single comment. 

Still, they do add nothing to his already quite fragile confidence as Roger and him step out of their individual changing booths and get greeted by Marie, Lotte and Theresa, standing close by and already wearing their bathing suits. 

It´s a bit cooler so close to the lake, weeping willows and birches providing them with shade and there´s a soft, warm breeze in the air that ruffles Brian´s hair, which has gone frizzy and wild in the heat.

He feels incredibly pale next to Roger, who had probably had quite a bit more sun exposure than him this summer and even though his friend too isn´t exactly muscular, Brian feels horribly insecure as the girl´s gazes hastily travel over his body, before they lower their heads in pretend-modesty. 

They lay out their towels in the grass and are soon joined by Freddie, who, as always, is fashionably late to their little get-together. 

He´s wearing a flowy blouse and loose, wide-legged trousers made from a crème-coloured, linen material, but he quickly takes those off to reveal a set of tight, black swimming trunks. 

“Come on darlings, time to get wet!”, he announces and then quickly runs towards the glistening lake, followed by Roger, Lotte and Marie. They create quite the ruckus, splashing about in the lake, swimming and shouting. 

Brian watches them, nervously playing around with the pendant of his necklace. Freddie´s skin seems to shimmer in the sunlight as he play-fights with Roger in the water, the muscles in his lithe chest and arms stretching when he moves. There´s something mesmerizing about it, about the way the water runs down his skin, about the dark hair growing on his chest and stomach, thick and black, about the way the singer moves around in the water, so gracefully, so conscious of his body in a way that Brian never could be. 

There´s admiration, for the way he´s so confident, so comfortable in his body, but there´s also something else, something hidden and unknown and it´s the same thing that makes Brian shy and quiet around Freddie. 

“Would you like to go for a swim as well, Brian?”, Theresa suddenly asks him. Brian hadn´t even noticed that she is still there, comfortably laying on her towel right next to him. 

She´s wearing an emerald green swimming costume which accentuates her petite, slightly boyish body and Brian´s gaze doesn´t seem to make her uncomfortable at all. She stretches in the warm sun, like a cat waking up from a nap and sighs contently. 

“Or…are you still sitting here because you can´t swim?”, she teases, her green eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“Of course I can swim.”, Brian protests, but she simply laughs at him, carefree and sweet, getting up from her towel and holding out her hand for him to take. 

“Well, come on then!”

The water is surprisingly cold, but Brian doesn´t have much time to get acclimated to it, since he immediately gets splashes and even attacked by Roger and Freddie, who pull him under the water.   
Freddie´s fingertips feel cold on his skin as he touches Brian and he feels like all the air is pushed out of his lungs as he´s dunked under the surface of the cold lake, his field of vision suddenly going green. 

He hears Roger laughing and then grabs him by the waist and pulls him under the surface as well, which makes the Blonde let out a loud shriek. Brian laughs and swallows a bit of water as he tries to hold Roger down but suddenly, he feels a pair of strong, sinewy hands grab him under his arms and pulling him upwards. 

A firm, hairy chest presses against his back, a soft, melody laugh tickles his ear and he feels hot and cold at the same time and can´t suppress the sudden shiver that runs down his spine. 

“I´ve got him, Rog! I´ve got him!”, Freddie shouts and Roger lurches onto him, which sends all three of them back into the water. 

An hour later, their fingertips have gone wrinkly from the water and they get out of the lake to dry in the sun, lounging around on their towels, drinking lemonade. 

It´s lovely and relaxed, all of them a little tired from swimming, when suddenly, a shadow towers over them. It´s a man in a uniform, similar to those of the policemen that patrol the streets when it gets to the later hours of the day. He´s probably a lifeguard, or a Bademeister, as Brian had read in his German dictionary which he reads in every night before bed, making an effort to learn at least ten German words each day. 

“Guten Tach die Damen und Herren.“*, he says, his local dialect so thick that Brian has trouble understanding him at all. 

“Guten Tag!“, Theresa pipes up, probably already sensing the slight tone of aggression in his voice.

The man doesn´t really pay her any mind, his light eyes focussing on Freddie instead, a disapproving look his face. 

“Ken Zutritt für Schwarze!“*, he blurts at the singer, who only now notices that the man had been talking to him and looks up in slight surprise from the fashion magazine he had been flicking through with Lotte. 

A slightly confused smile appears on his features and this seems to anger the man even further. 

„Kannste nich lesen, Freundchen? Dit is n´Badestrand nur für Weiße! Steht hier ofn Schild!“*

He points towards a sign not far from them which none of them had noticed before. Brian has to squint his eyes to make out what it says and feels a sinking feeling manifesting in the pit of his stomach as he notices that the man is in fact right. 

The rules for racial segregation are apparently still in full swing here in Berlin and something about the confident expression on the man´s face tells Brian that there won´t be any change about that in the near future. 

It´s a stale aftertaste that some of the interactions with the German people bear, the slight tinge of racial prejudices and the judging gazes flung towards his necklace with the star of David pendant or comments about the colour of Freddie´s skin, his black hair and almond-shaped eyes. 

Freddie seems to be determined to charm his way out of this and gets up from his towel, a friendly smile on his face as he looks the man in the eyes, his face bearing an expression of friendly innocence. 

„I´m terribly sorry, verehrter Herr, but my German is quite poor, I didn´t understand what this lovely sign was saying but I´m sure…”, he tries to explain, but the man shakes his head quite harshly and raises his first in anger. 

“Terribly sorry?! Na, dat biste gleich, wenn de dich nich jleich verfranzt un zwar zackich, Freundchen. De Leute fühlen sich jestört von dir!“*

He gestures towards a group of women sitting not far from them by the shore, wearing floaty, white dresses and sun-hats, their faces bearing an expression of displeasure as they look at their small group. 

„Sie sollten ein größeres Schild aufstellen, Herr Bademeister. Die Buchstaben sind zu klein, man kann es sehr schlecht lesen.“*

Brian doesn´t really know where those words have come from, neither does he have a clue how he worked up the bravery to face the officer so fearlessly. All he knows is that he had to speak up for Freddie, that the man has no right to talk to him like this. 

The man´s pale eyes settle onto Brian and a small, cruel smirk appears on his features, as he notices the necklace and the pendant resting on Brian´s bare chest. 

„Ach, und du auch noch, wa? Dich brauch ich nur enmal ankicken, da weiß ich was de für einer bist!“*

His accent makes it hard for Brian to understand, but there is no use in denying that the man has made a rude comment about his religion, which angers Brian immensely.   
His father has taught him one thing and that is to never be ashamed of being Jewish, to be proud of it, to fight back against the people who hated him, to educated and to never be ashamed of who he is.   
„I beg your pardon? “, he asks, his voice shaking slightly but his chin high as he looks the man in the eyes. 

„Jew! That´s how the English say it, right? You are a Jew! Verpiss dich und nimm denen schwarzen Freund glech mit!“*, the officer hisses at him and takes a step towards him, full of aggression.   
Brian stumbles backwards, but suddenly, there is Roger, right behind him. 

„Bastard!“, the Blonde says, his eyes narrowed, his voice loud and full of anger. 

„We don´t want you here! Go back to where you came from!”, one of the women from the small group not far from them shouts and the officer sneers at them. 

“I think we should leave…”, Freddie murmurs, lacking the aggression his friend Roger is displaying entirely, simply grabbing his towel and rolling his up, already looking for his clothes inside of his bag.   
There´s a bitterness to his quietness, a silent sense of resignation, almost as if he has experienced those types of situations a hundred times already. 

“No, we´re not leaving! This is a public space and you and Bri are allowed to be here, just like anyone else. I don´t care about any stupid fucking signs declaring nonsense!”, Roger fumes. 

“I said leave!”, the officer shouts at Roger. 

“Make me, mate! I think you won´t be able to!”, Roger hisses back at him and the man laughs, eager to fight, already lurching forward to grab the Blonde as Roger raises his fists, aiming for the man´s face. 

“Roger nein!”, Marie shouts and pulls him back by his arm. “Come on, don´t be stupid, he´s not worth it.”

There´s a second in which it seems as if Roger is going to break away, but then he takes a deep breath and simply nods. 

“Good boy…”, the officer teases and then grins at them, “Und jetzt verschwindet!”*

They pack up their stuff and as they make their way along a wide and dusty street framed by spindly birch trees, they can hear thunder in the distance. 

Warm summer rain hits them before they make it to the S-Bahn train and soaks them all right through to their bathing clothes. 

The mood is ruined and all them seem eager to simply get home. Roger and Lotte are the first to break off from their little group, heading straight to the small flat Roger rents with a guy from work.   
The rain beats down even harder and the streets suddenly look very empty, as they make their way out of the underground station and step out into the downpour. 

Brian, Theresa and Marie are already at the top of the stairs when Brian notices that Freddie has fallen a little behind. 

There´s an expression of discomfort on his features and Brian notices the slight limp in his walk as he slowly makes his way up the stairs. 

“Freddie, alles in Ordnung?”, Marie asks, who now seems to have noticed the singer´s bad state as well. She lays an arm around his shoulders and helps him walk up the last few steps. 

The singer smiles through his obvious pain and quickly shakes his head. “It´s alright, my dear, I´m fine…”

“Your leg is getting bad again…”, Theresa murmurs, her brows furrowed in worry as she looks at the singer. 

“It´s just the weather, nothing to worry about!”, Freddie replies with forced cheerfulness but to Brian, he looks quite pale, cold and tired and suddenly, he feels the urgent need to help, to at least ease the other man´s discomfort a little. 

“My place is quite close. You could have a little rest there, I´ll give you some dry clothes, make you some tea.”, he suggests and Freddie´s brown eyes meet his with a certain hesitation in them.   
He smiles shyly through his pain, overly conscious of the sudden change in Brian´s usually so quiet and withdrawn behaviour towards him. 

“Brian darling, that´s awfully kind of you but I really shouldn´t…”

“Please, be my guest, Freddie.”, Brian says with a smile that, to his relief, does not feel awkward but comes from a genuine place in his heart. 

He switches places with Marie and is now the one who has his arm around the singer´s shoulders to support him. 

They say goodbye to the girls, both of them almost smothering Freddie with their worried affection, which makes both Brian and him chuckle and then they are off to Brian´s lodgings at Fräulein Schneider´s. 

Brian is nervous and overly conscious of suddenly being so close to Freddie, of the way his shoulder feels surprisingly hard and muscular under Brian´s hand, of the way it feels when the singer leans against him slightly more with each step they are taking. 

“Stupid…fucking…leg…”, he grits out behind his clenched teeth and Brian grips onto him a little tighter, trying to give the man a little more support while the rain is still pouring down on them. 

“It´s alright…nice and slow…”, Brian murmurs towards him, a desperate attempt to ease the singer´s pain. 

Brian´s hair clings to his forehead and neck in thick, heavy curls and he starts getting quite cold, so he tries to walk a little faster, worried that the singer might be in the same discomfort. 

Fräulein Schneider makes a big fuss when they arrive at the door, drenched and leaving a trail of wetness behind them as they hopple up the stairs. She rushes right behind them with a tray of hot tea and biscuits and Freddie seems awfully embarrassed by her kindness and the fact that she seems to know him from his shows at the Moka Efti. 

Brian helps Freddie sit down on the bed and the singer groans with relief as he is finally able to take the pressure off his leg. “I´m sorry…I´m getting it all wet…”, he murmurs, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. 

“Don´t worry…doesn´t matter…“, Brian mutters, slightly jittery as he tries to find some dry clothes for the other man as quickly as possible. 

He provides him with a towel and some clothes and then stumbles to the other end of the room, where he himself gets off his wet clothes, dries off and then puts on something dry, his back turned towards Freddie the whole time, the both of them shy and awkward in the sudden silence as they get changed. 

“Would you like some tea?”, Brian asks, when it feels like he has stared out of the window for long enough to give the singer some time to get changed. 

“Tea would be lovely, thank you Brian.”, Freddie replies with a shy smile, his dark eyes full of insecure politeness. He seems to drown in Brian´s clothes, the shirt much too large for him, the woollen pants too long and it makes him look young and vulnerable, small and soft and nothing like the man up on stage of the Moka Efti anymore. 

Brian prepares the tea for them and then brings the tray over to the bed, where he sits down. They take a few sips in silence but the tension they previously had felt around each other slowly seems to ease. 

They listen to the summer rain still falling, to the generally noises of the house, footsteps and muffled voices, Fräulein Schneider´s opera music coming from the gramophone in the kitchen. 

“It´s a nice room you´ve got, darling.”, Freddie says softly and shyly smiles at Brian over the rim of his teacup. 

“Thank you…yes, quite spacious, isn´t it?”, Brian replies, his eyes nervously meeting the other man´s gaze. 

The singer nods softly, his smile broadening a little. 

It´s odd to be alone with Freddie, to suddenly have him here in his room, the situation so alien from how they usually interacted with one another. 

Freddie gives a sigh, puts down his teacup and then sinks down onto his back, stretching his legs, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. He starts moving his bad leg, flexing his foot in a way that looks gracefully experienced, bending and stretching his leg and taking deep, even breaths. 

“Does it still hurt?”, Brian asks as he watches the other man. 

“Just a little…I think I just put a bit too much pressure onto it today, with the swimming and walking and all, nothing too bad.”, the singer explains, “It´s just an old injury that´s never healed properly, nothing to worry about.”

“How did…how did you…?”, Brian asks, scolding himself for the way he gets caught up in the words, but the singer just opens his eyes and smiles kindly at him. 

“I used to be a dancer…a ballet dancer actually.”, in his eyes, Brian can see a sliver of pain, the ghost of a melancholic ache for a past now gone, but then it vanishes and Freddie smiles again. 

Brian can imagine him perfectly, up on a stage, gracefully moving about, living, breathing and loving the music just like he does when he´s singing. He doesn´t know much about those things, isn´t very educated when it comes to the fine art of dancing. But he´s sure of the fact that Freddie must have been a wonderful dancer. 

“I know what you´re thinking…”, Freddie interrupts his train of thought and when Brian looks at him again, the singer is smirking, “A male ballet dancer, what a scandal, what a ridiculous idea! That´s what everyone else always said…especially my dear parents.”

“That´s not what I was thinking.”, Brian says softly and watches Freddie raise one of his brows playfully. 

“You weren´t?”, the singer asks, a tired smile on his features. 

“No…”, Brian replies and then, to his horror, feels himself blushing once again, “I was thinking that you must have been a very good dancer.”

Freddie laughs, a sweet sound full of surprise, genuine and quite beautiful to Brian´s ears. It´s a boyish laugh, a smidge of the singer´s past. 

“How would you know, darling?”, Freddie asks and Brian shrugs, smiling nervously. 

“I don´t know…It´s just a feeling…”, he replies and feels foolish, but the singer seems satisfied with his answer. 

“Well…it is true, if I do say so myself. I was very good…one of the best, actually…”, he replies and then sighs softly, “Well, I used to be before I took a tumble during one of the shows and twisted my leg. Tried to pretend like nothing happened and just carried on dancing but the pain got so bad, I thought I´d lose my mind.”

There´s a sliver of pain in the other man´s eyes before he quickly hides it behind a slightly wobbly smile but Brian still notices it, notices the ghost of the past, the memory of the agony the other man must have gone through. 

“I´m sorry to hear that.”, he says softly and feels the sudden urge to touch the other man, holding his hand for just a second, a clumsy display of affection, the sudden need to comfort Freddie. 

The singer seems to sense it but suddenly, a sudden bitterness seems to take a hold of him. 

“Well, that´s not even the worst part of the story. Went to some doctor on Harley Street everyone was raving about, had an operation and that bastard managed to fuck up my leg even more.”

Freddie sighs and his fingers are shaking when he pulls up the leg of the trousers he has borrowed from Brian, revealing his knee and the fine, silvery scar running all across the joint, which looks slightly swollen. 

“Oh Freddie…how horrible…”, Brian says softly, swallowing thickly against the sudden lump that has formed inside of his throat. 

“Well, it was…”, the singer murmurs and then gives a small, pained smile as he continues, „But I´m fine now…except on rainy days I guess, that´s when it hurts the most.” 

He sighs softly, slowly running his thumb down the scar but then he rolls down the leg of the trousers again and looks back up at Brian, a slightly wonky but genuine smile on his lips.   
“No use in sulking though! I´ve now dedicated my life to another love…singing.”

“And you´re doing it so masterfully.”, Brian says with a sweet smile and the singer chuckles, obviously flattered by Brian´s compliment but a little too proud to admit to it. 

Freddie leans back against the pillows of the bed and looks up at the ceiling. 

“Wish my cigarettes didn´t get drenched with that god awfully rain, I´m craving a smoke…”, he murmurs. 

“Sorry, I don´t have any…”, Brian says quickly, but the singer just shakes his head and smiles at him. 

“That´s alright, dear.”, Freddie replies and once again, the silence settles in between them, heavier this time, as Brian lies back as well, and once more they listen to the rain and the sounds of the house, looking up at the ceiling, both lost in their own thoughts. 

“Brian…” , Freddie suddenly says, his voice very quiet. 

“Yeah?”, Brian turns his head towards the singer and looks at him. Freddie´s hair is starting to dry into soft waves and unruly curls.

“Thank you for letting me rest here for a little bit.”, the singer says with a sweet smile, but his gratefulness makes Brian feel slightly embarrassed. 

“That´s alright, really, it´s no big deal.”, he murmurs, but Freddie seems determined to get his point across. 

“I mean it, darling. I know you don´t particularly…like me, which is alright, I know I´m not everyone´s cup of tea and then I flirted with you so openly on the night we met so I totally understand that you…”, he goes on and Brian can´t help but be a little shocked at the other man´s assumption. 

“Freddie, no…”, he says quickly, sitting up again and shaking his head, searching for the right words to explain how he´s really feeling, “I think you´ve misinterpreted my demeanour entirely, I…”  
He clears his throat and then decides to simply go with the truth. 

“My quietness and shyness around you only stem from the fact that I feel a little…intimidated by you…”, he smiles shyly at the other man, “You´re such a great performer, you´ve got so much charisma, so much talent. You´re…larger than life really…”, Brian feels himself blushing once more.

“It makes me feel like I´d rather stay quiet because…you know, compared to you, I don´t have much to say…”

A soft smile has bloomed on the singer´s lips and as Brian looks at him, he sees an expression of warmth in the other man´s eyes. 

“Oh dear…it really wasn´t my intention…”, to Brian´s surprise, Freddie takes a hold of his hand, the gesture full of innocent authenticity, “Brian darling, I know we haven´t known for long but…I can tell that you´re a wonderful person. You´re so polite, so charming and so awfully clever, even though you´re always so humble about it.”

His thumb strokes over the back of Brian´s hand, gentle and genuine and Brian feels his heartbeat speeding up, feels himself unable to hold the other man´s gaze anymore. 

“Freddie, I…”, he stammers and only as the singer pulls away his hand, he´s able to look at him again.

“What I´m trying to say, darling, is that…don´t think you have to keep quiet because I´m this loud, flamboyant person who never shuts up and gets all up into people´s faces. It wasn´t my intention to drown you out like this, dear.”

“I know…I know it´s not…”, Brian replies and then musters up enough courage to smile at the man in front of him. 

There´s an awkward moment of silence, where Brian pours the both of them some more tea, but once again Freddie is ready to safe the both of them from it. 

“So…how do you like Berlin so far?”, he asks and as they continue to drink their tea, Brian tells him about his job as a tutor, the small quirks and some of the funny anecdotes about the families he´s working for. 

Freddie tells him about the clubs they should all go to, all the bars and ballrooms around the city and the crazy stories that come with them. 

The rain outside has stopped by now and there´s a moist warmth in the summer air that floats in through the open window. 

“Now dear, I have to ask you a very important question…”, the singer suddenly announces, “Now don´t get me wrong, in the two years that I´ve known our wonderful friend Roger, he´s been nothing but formidable, the most loyal companion one can imagine. Still, I must say, he made such a fuss whenever I´ve asked him to come to the museums with me.”, there´s a small smile tugging at his lips before Freddie rolls his eyes dramatically. 

“I could go with you…if you like…”, Brian says quickly, hastily almost and Freddie´s face lights up with joy. 

“Oh, would you, dear? There are such wonderful art galleries and museums all over Berlin and I have seen only a handful of them. Isn´t that a shame?”

“A shame, really!”, Brian agrees and then they both grin at one another and finish their tea. 

Two days later, Freddie picks him up in the afternoon to go the “Deutsches Museum” for the first time and from then on, they fall into a habit of enjoying art together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rugelach* = a traditionally Jewish sweet/ baked good
> 
> “Guten Tach die Damen und Herren.“* = „Good day, ladies and gentlemen.”
> 
> “Ken Zutritt für Schwarze!“* = „Whites only!“
> 
> „Kannste nich lesen, Freundchen? Dit is n´Badestrand nur für Weiße! Steht hier ofn Schild!“* = “Don´t you know how to read, boy? This is a white only beach! It says so on the the sign!”
> 
> “Terribly sorry?! Na, dat biste gleich, wenn de dich nich jleich verfranzt un zwar zackich, Freundchen. De Leute fühlen sich jestört von dir!“* = “Terribly sorry?! You will be if you don´t get lost quickly! People are feeling uncomfortable because of you!”
> 
> „Sie sollten ein größeres Schild aufstellen, Herr Bademeister. Die Buchstaben sind zu klein, man kann es sehr schlecht lesen.“* = „You should put up a larger sign, Sir. The letters are too small to red.”
> 
> „Ach, und du auch noch, wa? Dich brauch ich nur enmal ankicken, da weiß ich was de für einer bist!“* = „Oh, you´re going give me back chat as well? I´ve known what kind of person you are at the first glance.”
> 
> „Jew! That´s how the English say it, right? You are a Jew! Verpiss dich und nimm denen schwarzen Freund glech mit!“* = „Jew! That´s how the English say it, right? Piss off and take your brown little friend with you!”


End file.
